<\/p>\n
If you\u2019ve been feeling lonely, you\u2019re not alone \u2026 ironically enough. Our isolation has become structural<\/a>, and not only is it measurable \u2014 it\u2019s idolized<\/a>. In recent years, public health officials<\/a> have begun naming social isolation as a crisis with real, physical consequences. The scale of our collective, newfound loneliness is so large it warrants data-probing; we are spending more time alone<\/a> than ever before, and it shows.<\/p>\n We\u2019re all thinking it: The COVID-19 pandemic didn\u2019t create<\/em> this condition, but it did amplify it. Schools closed, routines collapsed and social lives shrank to screens and bedrooms. Even after lockdowns ended, research suggests<\/a> that rates of depression, anxiety and perceived loneliness never fully returned to baseline. The world reopened, but something in us stayed closed.<\/p>\n I didn\u2019t have the language or the studies for any of this when I first encountered The Longing<\/a> during lockdown in 2020. I only knew the feeling setting in.<\/p>\n The Longing is, on its surface, a strange and antagonistic game. Developed by Studio Seufz<\/a>, it asks the player to wait 400 real-world days for its intended ending. You play as the Shade, a small, soot-colored creature tasked with waiting until King \u2014 made of stone and sleeping deep underground \u2014 awakens. There is no combat, no traditional progression system and no urgency. Time passes whether you are there or not.<\/p>\n